


30 days at the cottage

by Sebastian_the_Mercat



Series: Starpiercer [1]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Angst, Drabble, Drabbles, Grumpy Old Men, Hurt and comfort, M/M, Past Abuse, Romance, past abusive relationship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-12
Updated: 2017-08-26
Packaged: 2018-10-03 05:57:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 1,110
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10237349
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sebastian_the_Mercat/pseuds/Sebastian_the_Mercat
Summary: damien and hadelis are two old men, living in a cottage, trying to heal from the pains of their pasts - these days, these 30 days, are the simple and fragile days, where life is bearable for them.





	1. things we carry

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am Hadelis, you are Damien.

I turn to look at you, your wrinkled face bathed in the golden light of the setting sun. Your hair, still brown but greying, stirs slightly in the gentle freeze coming from the open car window. I want to touch it, to run my hand through it, curly mess that it is, to smooth it out; maybe, if I tame it, I will be able to see the man I used to know...the man I used to hate. I know it's useless though - the both of us, we've changed so much, we know too much about each other. I could never hate you again. I suppose I am stuck here, loving you - and I suppose that is okay.


	2. an open door

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am Hadelis, he is Damien

He leaves the door open often - not literally, of course, as he is too frightened of the outside world for such things. No, he is subtle as he opens up the door to himself, leaving his soul stripped bare of all protections. He lays his head on my shoulder, nuzzles my neck, always very cuddly when he wants to talk. He whispers things, almost too quiet for me to understand, not that I'd want to - his words wound me, as they speak of the heart wrenching pains he had to experience in his life. I want to cry, but instead I hold him, comfort him, remind him that now he's loved. Sometimes, I wish he would open up more, because I don't want him to keep all that hurt trapped inside, a festering wound that refuses to heal. Sometimes, though, I wish he would open up less...for then we could pretend he wasn't hurt at all.


	3. faces in the street

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am Damien.

I see them sometimes, though I know they're not here. I see him, the lanky one, the leader with the serious face. I see her, distant eyes, bright hair, a rickety wheelchair. Them, blue skin, damp and scaly, sad eyes. Him, with his blond hair, feminine, fiery disposition. Her, black hair, red eyes, someone that looks like she doesn't belong. I see them in the faces that pass me, and I have to pause each time, have to convince myself that they were apparitions. They had to be - they are not who they were, and neither am I. I am no longer hunted, no longer someone that deserves to be hunted. I am old, with weak, brittle bones; my skin is no longer just a map of scars, but a map of wrinkles as well. My hair, once so orderly, is overgrown, curly, a greying ratty mess. I am no longer hunted - I am at peace...though when I see their faces, it's hard to remember that particular fact.


	4. mirror

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am Hadelis, he is Damien.

I remember when we first began living together all those years ago, he refused to look at himself in the mirror. This was especially true when he was in any state of undress. It was because of his scars, we both knew. No matter the amount of times I tried to comfort him, tried to tell him that his body was beautiful the way it was…he would simply nod, smiling at me, but not believing a word I spoke. When he grew old, however, things changed; I would walk in on him staring at himself in the mirror, taking in every scar, every wrinkle, every prominent bone of his fragile, worn body, his eyes widened in shock. It was almost as though he didn’t believe his body was his. Of course he knew that it was - he remembered how each scar had been inflicted upon him, how each tragic event in his life had caused another wrinkle to spawn…he remembered so surely and deeply, and maybe that’s why he was horrified - maybe that’s why he didn’t want to look.


	5. this road

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am Hadelis, he is Damien.

The road leading to our cottage by the sea is a rough one. It is dirt with the occasional spot of gravel, though it still manages to look beautiful. The way it gently slopes up the hill the little cottage rests upon, the way it is surrounded on both sides by wildflowers and lush grasses…it truly is beautiful. Seeing him struggle to climb that hill, though…seeing him stooped over, his face creased in pain, showing every year of his old age…I have grown to hate the road.


	6. aftermath

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You are Hadelis, he is Damien.

You massage him, because it is important; it is important to get him to loosen up, to come back to reality. You move your hands over his arms, rubbing vigorously, almost violently. Your touches are gentle though, in spite of the panicked roughness of their quality. When his cold skin begins to warm, his body begins to shake, and his glassy eyes begin to clear, you know its okay to stop rubbing him and to start holding him. He cries, usually, clinging to you like a small child and not an old man with greying hair and wrinkles. You hold him nonetheless.


	7. very loud

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am Damien, he is Hadelis.

I know I am loud, when he makes love to me. I moan, I whimper, and sometimes, I cry. He doesn’t seem to mind, just like he doesn’t seem to mind my fragile aging body, the scars that coat my skin, or the desperation in my eyes. I fear, someday, that my loudness or my appearance will be too much for him, that he will raise a hand and strike me…but he never does. I’m not surprised, or rather I shouldn’t be. Violence, abuse, hatred…that was the him from before. Now, he’s only gentle.


	8. shoes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am Damien, he is Hadelis.

It’s strange to look at his shoes, these days. When we first moved to the country with dirt roads, wild plants, and sea-worn shacks, he had been oh-so careful to keep his shoes clean, spotless. Not only would he be careful with his tasks, but he would then clean and polish them right after he got done doing whatever it was he did. Now, however, his shoes are cracked, worn with fraying laces, caked in dried clumps of dirt and sand. His shoes are the only visible, tangible sign of how much he has changed.


	9. nothing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am Damien.

I stare into space, except space is dark, cold, lonely. I float in that vast emptiness, feeling the distant ripples of pain as it races from the base of my skull down my spine. I know I’m not in pain, just like I know I am not floating in darkness. I know I am sitting in a chair or perhaps on my bed, my hands clenched into shaking fists, as different, warm hands try to rouse me, try to bring me back. Sometimes it works and I’m okay again - other times, I just pretend. It’s easier to convince myself that way.


End file.
